


Fortune and Favors

by Jougetsu



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Games & Sport, M/M, Stormlands Culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 03:49:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13989843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jougetsu/pseuds/Jougetsu
Summary: Renly and Stannis teach Davos games of the Stormlands.





	Fortune and Favors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The_Plaid_Slytherin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Plaid_Slytherin/gifts).



“You stack the sticks like this,” Renly explained. His tongue poked out in concentration as he meticulously set up the game table. “And then the other person blows them down.” 

“And why are some of the sticks painted different colors at their ends?” Davos asked. 

“That means some are worth more than others. The red ones count as ones and the blue ones are fives and the green ones are tens.” The young lord was nearly hopping with excitement. Davos realized that Renly was the youngest of his House, only barely past his seventh nameday, and thus the least looked to for information or advice. “The person who pretends to be the storm god gets the sticks they blew down. And then you switch sides and stack the sticks again.” 

Knucklebones was the only game Davos could recall from his childhood running about King’s Landing that required pieces-parts. Running and hiding, mock warhorse battles with children seated on another’s shoulder, those were easily played for they needed only enthusiastic members and were as easily ended when their playtime was curtailed. “You’ll have to remind me again about the colors and numbers,” he said solemnly to Renly. “I’m sure to forget as I have never played Durran’s House before.” 

“Never ever?” Renly sat up straighter. Perhaps he only thought Davos was humoring him when he asked him to teach him some games. “Not even when you were little like me?” 

“It’s a Stormlands game with that name,” Davos said. “I grew up very poor in the South so I never heard of it.” 

“But you know so many other games!” The smallest Baratheon was agog. “With cards and dice and boards! And Cyvasse!” 

“Aye, but I learned those when I started sailing,” he replied. “We didn’t have much in Flea Bottom as little ones.” 

Renly bit his lip and put his hand on his chin, a quirk Davos wondered if he learned directly from Stannis or if it was a widespread Baratheon mannerism. “Have you played bowling?” 

“I’ve seen it played by others, Master Renly,” Davos admitted. 

“Pall-mall?” 

Davos’ lips twitched before letting forth his chuckle, “Never heard of it, my lord. But I would be honored if you taught this humble knight to master its ways.” 

“I’ll ask Maester Cressen if he can join us! And Stannis!” Renly’s voice was merry as flutes at a fair and it warmed Davos to know he could bring such happiness to Renly. It would do his heart even better if he could be certain he brought Stannis such joy. “Pall-mall is best with more players, you’ll see, Ser Davos! My mallet is littler than the others, but I’m very strong for my age so I can hit the ball far!” 

“Mallets you say?” Davos ruffled Renly’s curly locks. “I’ll have to pray to the Smith to give this old sailor strength.”

“Why does the Smith look after sailors?” Renly asked, curiosity taking his hand and leading him from one fancy to the next. “Why isn’t there a Sailor in the Seven? Is the Smith also a sailor?” 

No one had posed question like that to Davos in a while. Or at least not without drinks late into the night which makes even the most prosaic soul a philosopher. “I can’t say I know, my lord. Maester Cressen or a septon would surely have an answer for you.” 

“Ye-es,” agreed Renly. “But Maester Cressen’s answers are really long. And I don’t understand some of them. But you always explain things good.”

“That’s the way of maesters and septons.” Davos shrugged. “Perhaps they don’t let the maesters leave Oldtown until they’ve thoroughly confused their guardsmen.” 

That made Renly giggle and they played several more lively rounds of Durran’s House until evening meal. Davos was not let go until he gave his solemn word that he would help Renly convince Stannis and Maester Cressen to join them for a game of pall-mall in the gardens very soon. Maester Cressen would need no coaxing, he loved the Baratheons as though they were his own sons Davos knew that. Stannis needed to be handled with infinitely more care, not manipulated no, Davos would never do that to his lord. But his lordship was disinclined to believe that amusements and happiness were available to himself. Stannis might even refuse on the principle that Renly ought to be at his studies. 

“Pall-mall? Renly ought to be attending to his studies,” Stannis said after a long swallow of wine. Then he took another as though fortifying himself for a negotiation. 

Davos hid a smile in his own cup. “He cannot be studying every waking hour, my lord, he is but seven.”

“Renly already looks for excuses to neglect the subjects he dislikes.” The Baratheon brothers indeed had storms in their eyes. Stannis’ usual steely blue went darker when he his temper was up. “I fear that indulging him will lead to ruin. Already Robert is shedding what little moderation Lord Arryn foisted on him in the Vale.” 

A fact which had not escaped Davos. While he had never known Robert Baratheon before coming to King’s Landing Davos had known men who turned to excess in their idleness. Robert was a warrior with little war left to wage and nothing to temper his indulgences. 

“But without play Renly will hide from his lessons and get into mischief to make his own fun,” Davos argued. He set his cup aside and rose to rub the stiffness he could see hardening Stannis’ shoulders. “Isn’t it better this way? Besides he wishes to spend time with you. That is a precious thing that will wither faster than you realize.” 

“I am the master of ships,” Stannis closed his eyes and leaned into the touch without question. “A member of the Small Council.” 

“An elder brother whose younger sibling wishes to play with him,” Davos put more strength into the heels of his palms. Stannis’ back was as knotted as any sailor between his vigorous training regimen and tense days at court. “Renly wants to impress you, to get your attention, and maybe even see you smile.” 

“Doubtful,” was the response. But his lord’s face told another story. One of mixed emotions as though he were afraid Renly’s adulation might be mocking or that he was unworthy of it. His “Of what use is my smile?” 

“No use at all, my lord.” A tendril of giddiness ran through Davos as he braced himself for his next words. “But it is a rare treasure to be cherished simply for its own sake.” 

Every muscle in Stannis’ backside froze, but his eyes remained shut. Iron brittle Stannis said, “Do not jest, Ser Seaworth.” 

“I do not jest.” Davos dared to take the liberty of stroking his left hand up the side of Stannis’ neck. “How we long for you to be happy.” 

The resulting squirm by Stannis should not have made Davos want to pin him down and see more. He’d be a liar if he said it didn’t though. 

“I’m not a man of glad manners.” 

“We, I, am not asking you to become one,” Davos stilled his hands. “Wanting to know that you are on occasion happy is enough.” 

The Baratheon stormy eyes opened and they were the deepest gray of Shipbreaker Bay. “Pall-mall it is then. The day after tomorrow. I do not promise to grin.” 

“A twitch of your lips will suffice.” The breath caught in Davos’ throat and he was dizzy for it. “And Renly wants to teach me all the games I’ve never learnt. Do you think you’d be up for Durran’s House on a rainy afternoon?”

“Not a favorite of mine, but that’s because Robert would always win,” said Stannis. “I could be persuaded to take it up once more. Or I could teach you Come-Into-My-Castle.” 

“Don’t tease a sailor with such bawdy names,” Davos chuckled and felt as though Salladhor was possessing him, then remembered Stannis abhorred lewd jests. “Forgive me for the vulgarity, my lord.” 

“Perhaps I was aware of the bawdy name,” Stannis said low and deliberate. “With your touch upon me and your attempts to bring me pleasure.” 

“Aye, is that so?” He never would have thought Stannis capable of flirtation, but he was heartily glad to be proven wrong. 

“Come-Into-My-Castle, Ser Davos,” Stannis’ eyes fluttered shut once more, but he put his own hands atop Davos’ to hold his dear knight. 

They did not leave the bedchamber until nearly midday the next morning and if Davos was still unclear on the rules Stannis was more than happy to tutor him again.

**Author's Note:**

> * Here Durran's House is an amalgamation of Pick-Up-Sticks, Jenga, and other stick based games themed to the Westerosi Stormlands' legend of Durran who kept rebuilding his keep (Storm's End) to withstand magical storms sent by the displeased parents of his sea goddess wife
> 
> * Pall-mall is the forerunner to modern croquet 
> 
> * Knucklebones has ancient origins and is the origin of the more modern game of Jacks
> 
> * Bowling in its earliest forms was played in medieval times


End file.
